The life and remains, letters, lectures, and poems of the Rev. Robert Murray McCheyne

Front matter

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Preface To The First Edition

In this Memoir, very much has been preserved of Mr MCheyne's own words, as well as feelings. Still there is a defect quite apparent. All who knew him not only saw in him a burning and a shining light, but felt also the breathing of the hidden life of God ; and there is no narrative that can fully express this peculiarity of the living man. Yet, nevertheless, as I have had the prayers of many, and have myself throughout asked the Lord to guide me with his eye, I believe he will not lei this record of his servant go forth unblessed. The Portrait is not an exact likeness : it was executed after his death from a very imperfect sketch — but it will recall his form to all who knew him. It is now a year since he rested from his labors ; and this Memoir is a record of some of those works that follow him.

Contents

MEMOIR.

Chap. I. Hii Youth amb PftCTAKATioif row. mm Mimibtet, . . « . . ^7

. . VL Tbb Lattbb Datb or hu Muostbt, ....... 198

LETTERS.

1. To Rev. R. Hacdohald, during Illness, before going to PilestinB, . • . .149

9L .. Mrs. Train, daring the continoance of the same, . . . .151

X .. Da Itefore going on the Mission, ....... 151

4. .. MtjsColubb. How his silence may be useAil, • « .153

5. .. Bay. W. C. BaBNS, on hte coming to sapply his place, . • . . .155 ft. Pabtobal Lbttbbs, No. L View of what has happened, . . • • .156

7. .. .. 8. Past times of privilege, ISO

& .. 3. How God works by Providence, . . . . . Itt

0. . . 4. God the answerer of prayer, ..... 105

10. . . . . 5. Betams made to God, Isaiah v., . . • . .100

IS. .. .. 7. Unexpected calls, 170

13. . . . . 8. Warnings to the unsaved, . . . . . .180

15. .. .. 10. Prom Breslaw. Travels, . . • • .180 10. To Rev. J. RozBUBoa. From Jerusalem— Account of the Land, . • .105 17. .. Rev. R. Macdonald. From Carmel. Do., . ... . • . 900

la .. Rev. W. C. BuBNs. inquiries about the Revival, MO

19. .. MtssCoLLiBB. Riches of Chrtot, 904

21. .. A Pabisbionbb in siclcness. Troubles unctUy, . . . . .907

S . . A SoFL WHOM BB NKVBB SAW. Lookiog to Jesus, ..... 906

S3. .. Rev. W. C. BuBNS. A Minister's Afllictinns, . . . . .910

94. .. Rev. Dan. EowABDS. What a Missionary must seek, . . . . .911

25. .. Do. Holiness and success, . . . . . .911

26, • • Mrs. Thain IFhen invited to rest a while, 919

28v.. A. S. L The person and heart of Jesus, ....... 914

29l . . Mr. W. C. B0BN8. Awakenings— Personal hoIinsM, 916

aa . . Kev. P. L. MiLLKB On beginning his Ministry, 918

8L . . Mr. O. Shaw. The Jews— Studies, 218

82. . . His Sabbath School Tbachkrs, ...... 991

88. • . Blairoowrib Socibtt. Advices, ...... 998

94. • . A 80UL BBEKiNe Jbsus, No. L Ck>rmption, ...... 993

35 2. The Righteousness of Christ, . . .994

36. 3. Joy in believing, 995

37. 4. Christ is precious, 996

3a .. 5. Found in Clirist, 397

80. •• 6. Leaning on Jesus, . .... 9S8

40. .. Tbb Mbmbkbs or A PBATBB-MBrriNo. The Sower, 930

41. .. M. S. Trying dUpensations 933

43. . . £. R. Corruptions drive us to Christ, ........ 934

43. . . J. T. A boy anxious about his soul, . ....... 935

44- .. A. T. On the death of his brother, ••...... 936

45. . . Rev. D. Campbbll. Advice to a brother in sickness, . . . .937

46. . . Rev. Hob. Bon ab. Breathings after holiness, . . . .938

47. .. Rev. R. Macdonalo. Words of counsel, ....... 930

48. . . Tbb Tbachbb or a Fbmalb School. Do what yon can, ..... 940

50. .. A SorL INQUIBINO AFTBB Jbsus. What is in Christ, ..... 24S

5L .. Do. Trials— Atonement in Christ, 944

5B. .. Onb wbo had bboun to sbb Jbsus, ... 945

a .. Bbt. P. L. MiixBA A w««d to the weary, ... ... 910

VI CONTENTS.

54. To Sev. John MiLHS. Another wofd to a bfolhcr, %n

55 .. Do. Braathingtofhoart, . 9ff7

67. .. Onc or Hii Fu>CK dbibktcd iir Soul, ....... 950

58. .. R«T. Albx. Gathbbbb. Visit to th« North. . SSI

59. . . Okb who bad aurrBBBD Bbbbaybmbiit. Sorrow of tho wortd, .... SSB

60. . . Amotbbb to omb bkbbatbd. Christ the same, .... SS3

SPECIMENS OF HIS SKETCPIES OF SERMONS.

1 ZlTlll. 18, Romans iv. 4-8, Proverbs xiT. 9.

SS6

SS6

Zechariah zii. 10 S57

Jeremiah xzxlii. 16, 9S6

Eevelation zz. U-15, 958

LbBABOB— ITS SCBITBBT AND ALLUSIOBT, ........ 9S9

NOTBS OB THB TtPBS rOUND IB THB TaBBBBACLB, . .988

OTHER PIECES ALREADY PUBUSHED.

EviDBBCB ON Rbtivals, .... ...... S80

This do in Ebmbmbbancb or Mb, ....... 908

Tbb Acckftablb Ybab or thb Lobd, .909

Wbt is God a Stbanokb in thb Land? ........ 990

Lbttbb on tbk Sabbath Railways, ........ 990

Lbttcb on Communion with Brbtbbbn op othbb Dbnominatiohb, . .994

To THB Lambs or thb Flock, .999

Daily Brbad, . . 345

Bonos or Zion.

1. The Barren Fig Tree, 955

3. They Sing the Song of Moses, ......... 957

4. On Mango Park's finding a Toft of Moss, ....... 958

6. Children called to Christ, ......... 963

7. Thy Word is a Lamp unto my Feet, ........ 908

8. TheFoontainofSiloam, ......... 964

11. On the Mediterranean Sea, at Acre, ....*... 967 18. The Child coming to Jesus, ^ . . . . . . 968

14. On J. T., a Believing Boy 971

OoNCLUDiNo Mbmobials, ......... 978

LECTURES.

Lbcturb I.

Tbb Tbn Vikoins,

Parti, .

U.

..

m.

..

3,

..

4,

V.

Bbthant. Part I.

VI.

.

.. VIL

.

.. VIII.

.

IX.

X.

6,

XL

7,

Capbbnaum.

.. XIII.

Wisdom's Housb,

.

.. XIV.

Folly's Housb, .

Thb Good Shbphbed,

.

.. XVI.

Cbbist thb Dook,

.. xvn.

900 904

409 414

418 483

440 444 449

CONTENTS,

FAMILIAR LETTERS.

II. To THB Saxb,— liondon, 9th April. ..... . . 456

m. To TBI 8AJIB,— RoalflKne, 13th April, 459

IV. To n> MoTBBB,— Lyon*, 90th April, ....... 4eu

V. To BU SmBB,—Oemja, 94th April, 4(>5

VI. To BU FATHBB,~II«lti, 5th Mtty, . . . 4(M>

VIL To TBB Rbt. R. S. CA!fDU8B,— Malta, 6th May, . . .474

VUL To BIS MoTBBB,— Alexandria, ]5tb May, . .479

IX. To Bi« Familt.— Monnt Carniel, S8th June, . . . . .484

X. To TBB Rbv. R. 8. Cakblub,— Mount Cannel, 97th Juae, .499

XL To TBB Sabi,— Beyrout, 5th Joly, . .407

XII. To BU SisTERr— Beyrout, 8th Jolyi ....... 500

XIII. To Mri. Corrrs,— Bf yniut, 9:hid Jaly, 504

. XIV. To BU SttTBR,— Boyrout, 99nd Jaly 508

XV. To TBB Rbt. A. N. Somkbtillc.— Beyrovt, 93rd July, .514

XVL To BU Familt,— Boaja, 99ad August, . . . v . . . 519

. XVIL To TBB Rbv. A. N. 6obbbtillb,— BooJa,99nd Aofust, . .594

. XVI IL To Bts 8isTBB,-<SalatB, 1st Septemlier. .590

XIX. To BIS Fatbcb and Motbkr,— Bucharest. 10th SepCArober, .537

XX. To TBB Rbt. R. 8. Caxdlisb,— Biwsanse, t6th September, .531 . XXI. To BIS SI^<TBB,— Taraapol, 1st October. . .538 . XXIL To Bill Fatbbb and Motbkb.— Brestau, 17tk October, . .543

. . XXin. To TBB Samb,— London, 6th November, ..... 548

. XXIV. To TBB Rkv. R. 0. Cakdlub,— London, lUK November, . .549

. XXV. To mu Fatbbb and Motbbb,— Dundee, 9Gtb November, . .555

ME MO IE.

Chapter I. His Youth, And Preparation For The Ministry

••ManyahaUr^JolMathiiUitli; for he ahaU be gml in the light of fha Lord."— Leu i. 14.

In the midst of the restless activity of such a day as ours, it will be felt by ministers of Christ to be useful, in no common degree, to trace the steps of one who but lately left us, and who, during the last years of his short life, walked calmly in almost unbroken fellowship with the Father and the Son.

The date of his birth was May 21, 1813. About that time, as is now evident to us who can look back on the past, the Great Head had a purpose of blessing for the Church of Scotland. Eminent men of God appeared to plead the cause of Christ. The Cross was lifted up boldly in the midst of Church Courts which had long been ashamed of the Gospel of Christ. More spirituality and a deeper seriousness began a few years onward to prevail among the youth of our Divinity Halls. In the midst of such events, whereby the Lord was secretly preparing a rich blessing for souls in all our borders, the subject of this Memoir was born. " Many were to rejoice at his birth ;" for he was one of the blessings which were beginning to be dropt down upon Scotland, though none then knew that one was bom whom hundreds would look up to as their spiritual father.

The place of his birth was Edinburgh, where his parents resided. He was the youngest child of the family, and was called Robert Murray, after the name of some of his kindred.

From his infancy his sweet and affectionate temper was remarked by all who knew him. His mind was quick in his attainments ; he was easily taught the common lessons of youth, and some of his peculiar endowments began early to appear. At the age of four, while recovering from some illness, he selected as his recreation the stud} of the Greek alphabet, and was able to name all the letters, and write them in a rude way upon a slate. A year after he made rapid progress in the English class, and at an early period becami somewhat eminent among his school-fellows

8 MEMOIR OF THE REV. R. M. Bl'OHETNE.

for his melodious voice and powers of recitation. There were at that time catechetical exercises held in the Tron Church, in the interval between sermons ; and some friends remember the interest often excited in the hearers by his correct and sweet recitation of the Psalms and passages of Scripture. But as yet he knew not the Lord, he live^ to himself, •* having no hope and without God in the world." Eph. ii. 12.

In October 1821, he entered the High School, where he continued his literary studies during the usual period of six years. He maintained a high place in his classes ; and, in the Rector's Class, distinguished himself by eminence in geography and recitation. It was during the last year of his attendance at the High School that he first ventured on poetical composition, the subject being, " Greece, but living Greece no more." The lines are characterized chiefly by enthusiasm for liberty and Grecian heroism, for in these days his soul had never soared to a higher region. His companions speak of him as one who had even then peculiarities that drew attention: — of a light, tall form — full of elasticity and vigor — ambitious, yet noble in his dispositions, disdaining every thing like meanness or deceit. Some would have been apt to regard him as exhibiting many traits of a Christian character ; but his susceptible mind had not, at that time, a relish for any higher joy than the refined gaieties of society, and for such pleasures as the song and the dance could yield. He himself regarded these as days of ungodliness — days wherein he cherished a pure morality, but lived in heart a Pharisee. I have heard him say that there was a correctness and propriety in his demeanor at times of devotion, and in public worsnip, which some, who knew not his heart, were ready to put to the account of real feeling. And this experience of his own heart made him look with jealousy on the mere outward signs of devotion, in dealing with souls. He had learnt in his own case how much a soul, ona wakened to a sense of guilt, may have satisfaction in performing, from the proud consciousness of integrity towards man, and a sentimental devotedness of mind that chastens the feelings without changing the heart.

He had great delight in rural scenery. Most of his summer vacations used to be spent in Dumfriesshire, and his friends in the

Earish of Ruthwell ana its vicinity retain a vivid remembrance of is youthful days. His poetic temperament led him to visit whatever scenes were fitted to stir the soul. At all periods of his life, also, he had a love of enterprize. During the summer months he occasionally made excursions with his brother, or some intimate friend, to visit the lakes and hills of our Highlands, cherishing thereby, unawares, a fondness for travel, that was most useful to him in after days. In one of these excursions a somewhat romantic occurrence befell the travellers, suci as we might rather have expected to meet with in the records of his Eastern joumev.

MSMOnt OF THS BBT. R. M. Bl'OHETNE. 9

He and his friend had set out on foot to explore, at their leisure, Dunkeld and the highlands in its vicinity. They spent a day at Dunkeld, and about sunset set out again with the view of crossing the hills to Strathardle. A dense mist spread over the hills soon after they began to climb. They pressed on, but lost the track that might have guided them safely to the glen. They knew not how to direct their steps to any dwelling. Night came on, and they had no resource but to couch among the heath, with no other covering than the clothes they wore. They felt hungry and cold ; and, awaking at midnight, the awful stillness of the lonely mountains spread a strange fear over them. But, drawing close together, they again lay down to rest, and slept soundly till the cry of some wild birds and the morning dawn aroused them.

Entering the Edinburgh University in November, 1827, he gained some prize in all the various classes he attended. In private he studied the modern languages ; and gymnastic exercises at that time gave him unbounded delight He used his pencil with much success, and then it was that his hand was prepared for sketching the scenes of the Holy Land. He had a very considerable knowledge of music, and himself sang correctly and beautifully. This, too, was a gift which was used to the glory of the Lord in after days — wonderfully enlivening his secret devotions, and enabling him to lead the song of praise in the congregation wherever occasion required. Poetry also was a never-failing recreation ; and his taste in this department drew the attention of Professor Wilson, who adjudged him the prize in the Moral Philosophy class for a poem, " On the Covenanters."

In the winter of 1831, he commenced his studies in the Divinity Hall, under Dr. Chalmers ; and the study of Church History under Dr. Welsh. It may be naturally asked, What led him to wish to preach salvation to his fellow-sinners ? Could he say, like Robert Bruce, " 1 was first called to my grace, before I obeyed my calling to the ministry V^ Few questions are more interesting than this; and our answer to ii will open up some of the wonderful ways of Him " whose path is in the great waters, and whose footsteps are not known ;" Psalm Ixxvii. 19 : for the same event that awakened his soul to a true sense of sin and misery, led him to the ministry.

During his attendance at the literary and philosophical classes he felt occasional impressions, none of them perhaps of much depth. There can be no doubt that he himself looked upon the death of his eldest brother, David, as the event which awoke him from the sleep of nature, and brought in the first beam of Divine light into his soul. Bj that providence the Lord was calling one soul to enjoy the treasires of grace, while he took the other into the possession of glorji

In this brother, who was his senior by eight or nine years, the light of Divine grace shone before men with rare and solemn loveliness. His classicil attainments were very high ; and, after the usual preliminary studies, he had been admitted Writer to the Si^et. One distinguishing quality of his character was his sensitive truthfulness. In a moment would the shadow flit across his brow, if any incident were related wherein there was the slightest exaggeration ; or even when nothing but truth was spoken, if only the deliverer seemed to take up a false or exaggerated view. He must not merely speak the whole truth himself, but he must have the hearer also to apprehend the whole truth. He spent much of his leisure hours in attending to the younger members of the family. Tender and aflectionate, his grieved look when they vexed him by resisting his counsels, had (it is said) something in it so persuasive that it never failed in the end to prevail on those with whom his words had not succeeded. His youngest brother, at a time when he lived according to the course of this world, was the subject of many of his fervent prayers. But a deep melancholy, in a great degree the effect of bodily ailments, settled down on David's soul. Many weary months did he spend in awful gloom, till the trouble of his soul wasted away his body ; but the light broke in before his death ; ioy, from the face of a fully reconciled Father above, lighted up his face ; and the peace of his last days was the sweet consolation left to his afflicted friends, when, 8th July, 1831, he fell asleep in Jesus.

The death of this brother, with all its circumstances, was used by the Holy Spirit to produce a deep impression on Robert's soul. In many respects — even in the gifts of a poetic mind — there had been a congeniality between him and David. The vivacity of Robert's ever active and lively mind was the chief point of difference. This vivacity admirably fitted him for public life; it needed only to be chastened and solemnized, and the event that had now occurred wrought this effect. A few months before, the happy family circle had been broken up by the departure of the second brother for India, in the Bengal Medical Service ; but when, in the course of the summer, David was removed from them for ever, there were impressions left such as could never be effaced, at least from the mind of Robert Naturally of an intensely affectionate disposition, this stroke moved his whole soul, his quiet hours seem to have been often spent in thoughts of him who was now gone to glory. There are some lines remaining in which his poetic mind has most touchingly, and with uncommon vigor, painted him whom he had lost — lines all the more interesting, because the delineation of character and form which they contain, cannot fail to call up to those wh^ knew him the image of the author nimself. Sometime after iis brother's death, he had tried to preserve the features of his well-remembered form, by attempting a portrait from memory ; but throwing aside the pencil in despair, he took up the pen and poured out the fulness of his heart.

MSMOnOF THE REV. R. M. Bl'OHBTNE. U

ON PAINTING THE MINIATURE LIKENESS OF ONE DEPARTED.

Alas! not perfbot yet— another touch, And still another ! and another still, Till those dull lips breathe life, and yonder eye Lose its lack lustre hue, and be lit up With the warm glance of liring feeling. No- It never can be ! Ah, poor, powerless art ! Most Taunting, yet most impotent^ thou seek'st To trace the thousand, thousand snades and lighta That glowed conspicuous on the blessed fkce Of him thou fain would'st imitate — to bind Down to the fragile canvass the wild play Of thought and mild affection, which were wont To dwell in the serious eye, and play around The placid mouth. Thou seek'st to give again That which the burning soul, inhabiting Its clay-built tenement, alone can giye— To leaye on cold dead matter the impress Of liying mind — to bid a line, a shade.

Speak forth not words, but the soft intercourse Which the immortal spirit, while on earth It tabernacles, breathes from every pore — Thoughts not converted into words, and hopes, And fears, and hidden joys, and griefs, unborn Into the world of sound, but beaming forth In that expression which no words, or work Of cunning artist, can express. In vain, AJas! in vain!

Come hither, Painter; come Take up once more thine instruments—thy brush And palette — ^if thy haughty art be. as thou say'sty Omnipotent, and if thy hand can dare To wield creative power. Renew thy toil, And let my memory, vivified by love, «

Which Death's cold separation has but warmed, And rendered sacred, dictate to thy skill. And guide thy pencil. From the jetty hair Take off that gaudy lustre that but mocks The true original ; and let the dry.

Soft, geatly turning locks, appear instead. What though to fashion's garish eye they seem Untutored and ungainly— still to me, Than folly's ftppish head-gear, lovelier tar Are they, because bespeaking mental toil, Labor assiduoas, through the golden days (Gk>lden if so inproved) of guileless youth, Unwearied mining in the precious stores Of daasio lor»-and better, nobler still In GKxl's own ioly writ. And scatter ^ere And there a thread of grey, to mark the grief That prematuiely checked the bounding flow Of the warm cirrent in his veins, and shed An early twilight o^er so bright a dawn.

No wrinkle sii upon that brow ! — and thus It ever was. Ihe angry strife and cares Of avaricious niser did not leave Their base meaorial on so fair a page.

The eye brows lext draw closer down, and throw A softening shdle o'er the mild orbs below. Let the tali eyelid, drooping, half conceal The bftok-retirilg eye ; and point to earth

MEMOIR OF THS RBT. R. M. Bl'CHSTNB.

The long brown lashes that bespeak a soul Like his who said, " I am not worthy, Lord P From underneath these lowly turning lids. Let not shine forth the gaily sparkling light Which dazzles oft and oft deceiyes — nor yet The dull unmeaning lustre that can gaze Alike on all the world. But paint an eye In whose half-hidden, steady light I read A truth-enquiring mind ; a &ncy, too, That could array in sweet poetic garb The truth he found ; while on his artless harp He touched the gentlest feelings, which the blaie Of winter's hearth warms in the homely heart And oh ! recall the look of ftdth sincere. With which that eye would scrutinize the page That tells us of offended God appeased t

By awful sacrifice upon the cross Of Calvary — that bids us leave ft world Immersed in darkness and in death, and seek A better country. Ah! how oft that eye Would turn on me with pity's tenderest look, And, only half upbraiding, bid me flee From the vain idols of my boyish heart !

It was about the same time, whilst still feeling the sadness of this bereavement, that he wrote the fragment entitled

'tub righteous perisheth, and no man layeth it to heart.

A ffraye I know Where earthly show Is not — a mound Whose gentle round Sustains the load Of a fresh sod.

Its shape is rude.

And weeds intrude Their yellow flowers — In gayer bowers Unknown. The grass, A tufted mass, Is rank and strong — Unsmoothed and long.

No rosebud there Embalms the air ; No lily chaste Adorns the waste, Nor daisy's head Bedecks the bed.

No myrtles wave Above that grave ; Nor heather-bell Is there to tell Of gentle friend Who sought to lend A sweeter sle««p To him who deep Beneath the ground Repose has found.

No stone of woe Is there to show

The name^ or tell

How passing wcU

He loved hit God,

And how he trod

The humble road

That leads through sorrow

To a bright morrow.

Unknown in life.

And far from strife.

He lived ; — and thoogk

The magic flow

Of genius played

Around his head ;

And he could weave

"The song at eve,"

And touoh the hearty

With gentlest art;

Or cares b^^uile.

And draw the smile

Of peace from those

Who W€pt their woes , —

Yet wh«n the love

Of ChriBt above

To guilty men

Was shiwn him—then

He left the joys

And hunbly laia

His dnoping head

Upon tie 0 OSS ;

QfftUtkfttMttth

MSMOnt OF THS RBV. B. WL M^OHBTNB.

IS

Contmined— of mirth, Of lores, and fkme, And pleasures' name- No stierifioe To win the prise, Which Christ secured When he endured For us die load — ThewrmthofGhKil With many a tear, And man J a fear.

With manj a sign And heart-wrung ory Of timid faith, He sought die breath : But which can give The power to liT©-^ Whose word alone Can melt the stone, Bid tumult oeose, And all be peace !

He sought not now To wreath his brow With laurel bough.

He sought no more To gather store Of earthly lore.

Nor Tainly strove To share the lore Of hearen aboTe, With aught below That earth can shaw.

The smile forsook His cheek — ^his look Was cold and sad; And OTcn the glad Return of mom, When the ripe oom Wares o'er the plains, And simple swains With joy prepare The toil to share Of harresi, brought No lirely thought To him.

* * * 4

And spring adorns The sunny moms With openine flowert ; And beauty showers O'er lawn and mead -, Its Tirgin head The snow-drop steepc In dew, and peeps

The erocuB forth.

Nor dreads the north— But eren the spring No smile can bring To him, whose eye Sought in the sky For brighter scenes, Where mteifHi No darkening etoud Of sin to shroud The gaser's Tiew, Thus sadly flew The merry spring; And ^dly sine The birds their lores In summer sroTes.

But not for him Their notes they trim.

His ear is cold — His tale is told.

AboTe his grsTe The grass may waTO—

• • • • The crowd pass by Without a dgh Above the spot They knew him not— They could not know; And eren though.

Why should they shed AboTC the dead Who slumbers here A single tear? 1 cannot weep.

Though in my sleep I sometimes clasps With loye's fond grasp His gentle hand, And see him stand Beside my bed, And lean his head Upon my breast, And bid me rest Nor night nor day Till I can say That I have found The holy sround In which Uiere lies The Pearl of Price- Till all the ties The soul that bind, And all the lies The soul that blind Be * * *

Nothing could more fully prove the deep impression which the event made than these verses. But it was not a transient regret, nor was it the ** sorrow of the world." He was in his eighteenth year when his brother died : and if this was not the year of his new birth, at least it wis the year when the first streaks of dawn appeared in his soul. From that day forward his friends observed

14 MEMOIR OF THE REV. R. M. Bl'CHETNE.

a change. His poetry was pervaded with serious thought, and all his pursuits began to be followed out in another spirit. He engaged in the labors of a Sabbath-school, and began to seek God to his soul, in the diligent reading of the Word, and attendance on a faithful ministry.

How important this period of his life appeared in his own view, may be gathered from his allusions to it in latter days. A year after, he writes in his diary : " On this morning last year came the first overwhelming blow to my worldiiness; how blessed to me, thou, O God, only knowest, who hast made it so." Every year he marked this day as one to be remembered, and occasionally its recollections seem to have come in like a flood. In a letter to a friend (8th July, 1842), upon a matter entirely local, he concludes by a postscript — ^ This day eleven years ago, my holy brother David entered into his rest, aged 26." And on that same day, writing a note to one of his flock in Dundee, (who had asked him to furnish a preface to a work printed 1740^ ** Letters on Spiritual Subjects*^), he commends the book, and adds — ^'* Pray for me, that I may be made holier and wiser — ^less like myself, and more like my heavenly Master ; that I may not Vegard my life, if so be I may finish my course with joy. This day eleven years ago, I lost my loved and loving brother, and began to seek a Brother who cannot die."